


we never knew what we had

by orphan_account



Series: saints and sinners [4]
Category: Funhaus (Video Blogging RPF), Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22018483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The gang's back together, but it's not all sunshine and roses. (I'll probably change this summary later when i actually know exactly where the fuck i'm going with this)
Relationships: Adam Kovic/James Willems
Series: saints and sinners [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1206013
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Edit as of 1/4/21: You may notice that I have orphaned this fic, and all of my other Achievement Hunter/Funhaus fics. Truthfully, I came very close to deleting them instead. I don't want anything to do with Ryan Haywood on my page- he's a predator and he has no place in my fics. So I'm orphaning everything under the Rooster Teeth umbrella. Although Adam Kovic's situation is not predatory (that I'm aware of), I'm scrubbing Funhaus too, bc I'd rather be overly cautious.
> 
> If you're unaware of the situation, here's a reddit thread that i found very informative. https://www.reddit.com/r/Achievement_Hunter/comments/j761ok/if_youre_out_of_the_loop_click_here/

Bruce isn’t stupid. Well, not completely stupid. Not all the time, anyway.

A part of Bruce is actually kind of excited to be getting the band back together. It doesn’t seem like everybody feels that way, though.

He hasn’t seen Kovic in...nearly a year? And physically the guy’s basically unchanged. But mentally? He seems like a completely different dude. 

Kovic’s always been pretty quiet, but he packed tons of sarcasm into all of his quips.

Those quips? Almost nonexistent now. 

To be perfectly honest, Bruce is a little offended. Not that Bruce wasn’t having a great time on his own these past few months, because he was, but Bruce is kind of excited to see Kovic and Sonntag again. 

Obviously Kovic isn’t nearly as happy to see him.

So Bruce passive aggressively dumps the heavy duffel bag full of weapons on Adam’s lap when he slides back into the driver’s seat.

“Here, these are the guns you asked me to get for you.”

Adam frowns. “I didn’t ask you to get any guns for me.”

Bruce just shrugs. “Okay. maybe you didn’t. But I have a hookup.” 

“A hookup?” Adam says dubiously. And then he brightens up for the first time this whole week. “Ohmygod, are you still sleeping with that arms dealer?”

Bruce ignores that and says pointedly, “I noticed you didn’t bring any weapons with you to Lawrence’s, which, by the way, is fuckin’ dangerous.”

“You ARE. Dude, it’s been like a year? You’re practically married in gang terms.” Adam laughs.

Bruce smiles too, but doesn’t let up. “What did you do with your weapons?”

“I sold them,” Adam says shortly, his tone brooking no argument.

“What?! Why?”

“I was pretending to be a civilian, Bruce! They don’t carry around handguns!” Adam crosses his arms and glares out the windshield.

“Hmmph.” Bruce narrows his eyes at that. Logical, sure, but it still feels like Adam’s hiding something.

But he lets it go.

Adam unclenches and unzips the bag. He lets out a low whistle. “Wow, he sure likes you, what do I owe you for this?”

“Nothing, man, I didn’t pay for that shit,” Bruce waves him off. “I told you, I got the hookup.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” Adam says, finally. He stares at the gun for a second more before he pulls out a beretta and pulls back the magazine to check the clip. The movement is so practiced, Bruce would have no idea Adam hadn’t fired a gun since he last saw him if he hadn’t told him. 

Despite his suspicions, Kovic clearly hasn’t gone soft. When he turns and grins at Bruce, Bruce finally feels like Adam is back. And just as lethal.

\-----

Lawrence’s apartment is nice, but sitting around watching Lawrence type away at his computer is not Bruce’s idea of a good time. 

And apparently not Adam’s either. 

“Larr, can you get off the damn computer for a second?”

Lawrence looks up from the screen with bloodshot eyes. “No, I can’t. They’re literally going to KILL me. I have to find something to use- blackmail, dirty secrets, anything.”

“That’s what we’re here for!” Adam gestures to himself and Bruce. “Isn’t it? I was told you had no qualms giving me up to the sharks, so I’m here to make sure they don’t get a hold of you,” he finishes with a glare.

Bruce stands quickly from the wall he’s been leaning against. He needs to intervene before this gets nasty. 

“We need a game plan,” he interrupts whatever’s brewing.

Adam and Lawrence both look at him in surprise. 

“YOU want to come up with a plan? I always figured you for more of a fly by the seat of your pants guy,” Lawrence says, as always sounding a bit condescending. 

“Well maybe people change.”

Adam sighs. “Alright, Bruce. Tell us this plan.”

He launches right into it. “Lawrence, you’re only in deep shit because some Vagos asshole saw you at that warehouse fire, and flipped and told the police.”

Lawrence rolls his eyes. “Saying only is misleading. Yes, I’m ONLY in deep shit. The police are not my problem; the Fakes are.”

“Well...who snitched on you?” Bruce prompts.

Lawrence tilts his head, “I don’t know. All I know is what you’ve told me. I’ve been pumping my sources, but I can’t reach feelers to far out or the Fakes will hear about it and trace it back to me and track me down that much faster.”

Adam speaks up. “Let us talk to our sources, and a few of the other gangs. We know at least one member of the Vagos was there, we can start there. They don’t know we’re involved in this.” he gestured to himself and Bruce.

Bruce nods in agreement and adds, “I think the best way to keep the Fakes off your back is to give them someone else to blame.”

“So you’re saying we need to find out who started the fire?” Lawrence asks.

“Unless you want to admit it was you,” Adam says seriously.

Lawrence jumps to his own defence, “Of course not! I would never-”

Adam clears his throat.

“Okay, I might do something like that,” Lawrence admits, “but would never do something like that without telling you guys!”

Bruce and Adam both accept that. Lawrence would definitely brag about taking out the leader of a rival gang.

“Speaking of telling each other things, I think we need to commit to being fully honest with each other from now on,” Bruce jumps in.

Adam squints at him. “What? Why?”

“This is serious business. The Fakes aren’t a small time gang we can take out, like Cow Chop. We need to trust each other completely if the threat of death is on the table.”

Adam reluctantly nods. “Alright, fair enough.”

Seeing that Adam’s agreed, Lawrence sighs and rolls his eyes. “Fine!”

Adam adds a quick provision before Bruce can add anything else. “But this only applies from here on out. We’re not talking about the past year.”

Bruce and Lawrence agree to that easily enough.

So Adam is absolutely hiding something. Bruce doesn’t know what, but Adam’s entitled to some privacy. 

As long as it doesn’t get Bruce killed, he won’t pry. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These updates will be sporadic, but I do have a vague outline of where I'm going! So I promise I'll finish!

Lawrence glares at his computer screen. This is completely useless. Bruce had tipped him off to the snitch, but even his informant hadn’t known a name. The only information Lawrence actually has is that whoever saw him was a member of the Vagos, and that’s supremely unhelpful because he doesn’t know anything about the gang.

And it seems like nobody knows anything about them.

Hacking into the police departments files has been futile. They’re apparently relying on paper records, probably for this exact reason, he muses. Either that or incompetence. Lawrence leans towards the latter, but he’s feeling uncharitable anyway.

He takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Bruce and Adam have both gone off to talk to their contacts, but Lawrence is stuck here. He’s the one whose identity has been compromised, and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t really have that many contacts anyway. 

He prefers getting his information from technology, rather than people. With maybe one exception. 

Who he’s actually reluctant to drag into this mess. Even in the interest of self preservation. Turns out Lawrence does have a heart.

But, he purses his lips in concentration, there’s no way way said exception hasn’t already heard about the shitstorm Lawrence is in. He might even be offended if Lawrence doesn’t get in contact.

He pulls out his phone and swipes to his contacts. 

Lawrence scrolls all the way down to S and then hesitates. This might be the lifeline he needs, but it also might get someone killed.

He finally rolls his eyes at himself. If Lawrence doesn’t make the call, then Adam or Bruce definitely will, and then Lawrence really will be in the doghouse.

He hits call.

\-----

The doorbell rings early the next morning. Too early.

Lawrence grumbles and shoves his glasses onto his face. He doesn’t bother getting dressed. They can just deal with his grubby sweatpants. It’s either a friend or he’s dead as soon as he opens the door, and it’s too early to care about his appearance either way.

“What do you want?” he growls as he yanks the door open.

And immediately regrets it.

Standing before him is the best thing he’s ever seen. “Spoole?” Lawrence breathes out.

“In the flesh,” Spoole grins, tipping his trademark red baseball cap in Lawrence’s direction. “Uh, I got your message last night.”

Lawrence blinks. He’d been mildly upset when Spoole didn’t pick up last night, but he’d expected for him to call back, not show up in person.

Had he sounded that desperate on the phone? Because he is definitely feeling desperate.

“I figured you could use some help,” Spoole continues, oblivious to Lawrence’s inner dialogue.

Lawrence clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, actually, I totally could.” He is more grateful than he can say.

Spoole looks him up and down, “Well, uh, you wanna put some clothes on? Because I actually brought some extra manpower with me.” He gestures behind him to where someone else is getting out of their car.

Lawrence squints, “Is that-”

The other man just flaps his hands dismissively. “Yeah, I brought Peake. Don’t get mad that I told him.”

“I’m not mad,” Lawrence protests.

Spoole hesitates, “You know, you do have people who care about you, Lawrence. We don’t want you to die.”

That shouldn’t be touching, but to Lawrence, it is. He swallows thickly. “Thanks, Spoole.”

Peake finally reaches them, cutting any touching moments short. “Are you gonna let us in or not?” 

\----

Lawrence’s living room is quickly taken over. Peake and Spoole have their laptops out and are typing with almost frightening speed, stopping every few minutes to check their phones or take a sip of an energy drink. They only wave him away when he, very uncharacteristically, asks if they need anything.

He retreats to his office to process. It’s nice to know that Lawrence has more friends than he originally thought. Maybe Adam and Bruce hadn’t even needed threatening. He really shouldn’t have said he had no problem naming names to the Fakes. He just panicked. And now he was feeling a lot of things. Being basically a dead man was not doing great things for his typically cold heart.

Really, Lawrence has never been so glad to have his space invaded. 

Even though he now has triple the feelers out in the cyber world, it still takes hours before there are any results.

The sun has already gone down by the time Spoole bursts into his office, closely followed by Peake.

Lawrence jolts awake from what has embarrassingly become a light doze.

Spoole and Peake thankfully don’t remark upon it. Peake just crosses his arms while Spoole drops a laptop in his, well, in his lap.

“Take a look at this,” he says excitedly. “I think we finally found something.”

Lawrence squints at the screen. “Tell me what I’m looking at.”

“Well, like you already knew, the police database was a dead end,” Spoole starts. Peake nods along. “So we decided to take a look into the Vagos’ entire online presence.”

“What’d you find?”

“Nothing.” Peake interjects.

Before Lawrence can get disappointed, Spoole starts back in. “Okay, it’s not like we found _nothing_ nothing. It was just...odd. So we looked closer.”

“What does that mean?”

“There is clearly a group of men calling themselves the Vagos,” Spoole explains, “but their instagrams, facebooks, all that- they were _all_ created about three months before the fire.”

“Well, fuck.” Lawrence blinks in surprise. “So you’re saying-”

Before Lawrence can finish his train of thought, his front door bursts open, admitting Bruce and Adam. 

“Everybody shut up!” Bruce shuts down all other conversation. “We tracked down the informant!”

“How?!” With no name, Lawrence is not sure how the two of them managed it. 

“The convenience store across from the police station,” Adam explains, “We bullied the kid on shift into letting us make copies of the surveillance tapes the day Bruce’s guy says your informant came in.”

“And it was totally shitty, no way could I identify faces in that grainy shit,” Bruce continues.

Adam picks up, “So yeah, we didn’t have a face, BUT- we had a few hunches and managed to get a few license plates. And eventually it panned out.”

“So, what did he say? Did you beat the shit out of him?”

Bruce and Adam exchange a look, “Well, no, we didn’t,” Adam says slowly.

“Because- get this- he’s an actor!” Bruce pulls out his phone and shows Lawrence an airbrushed headshot of someone who is very clearly not a gang member.

Clearly Lawrence doesn’t look surprised enough, because Bruce shoves it further into his face, “See?”

“Yeah, we already told him they were fake,” Spoole says.

“What?” Bruce’s voice goes high pitched. “Goddammit Spoole!”

So, clearly, the Vagos do not exist. But one mystery solved just creates more. Who the fuck created an entire fake gang just to ruin Lawrence’s life?

It makes no sense.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this all I've written for this fic. I am NOT going to be completing it, after everything that has gone down with Ryan Haywood and Adam Kovic. Sorry to anyone who was actually reading this, but i'm not comfortable writing in the rooster teeth fandom at this point in time. Everybody take care of yourselves!

James has been living in a fog for the past week. He’d been dumped rather unceremoniously and told his entire relationship was a lie. He should be able to muster up some anger.

But really he’s just confused. And hurt. And depressed. 

When he’d finally mustered up the courage to call his boyfriend (EX-boyfriend, he reminds himself), the phone line had been disconnected. That stung, but James didn’t give up that easy. So he went by Adam’s apartment. 

Where apparently, Adam no longer lived. 

Had Adam seriously moved and changed numbers just to get away from him? Or had Adam been planning this for a while? 

That’s the thought that lingers in James’ mind. Adam had said their whole relationship was a lie, and maybe it was. 

So maybe he can muster up some anger after all.

He can’t stop thinking about it. And he’s just so tired of thinking about it. 

He still goes to work every day, and he still works out every day. But it’s like it doesn’t even matter anymore. He’s just going through the motions.

James’ phone vibrates, pulling him out of his thoughts and alerting him to the fact that he’s been staring into space for the last few minutes. In the middle of the crowded bullpen. Thank God no one noticed. He’d be the butt of their jokes for weeks.

He flicks a quick glance around once more just to make sure no one’s staring before pulling out his cell.

One new text message. Well, these days it’s only ever one person. 

Which is fine. He straightens up as he reads it, angst set aside for another time. Really, his life is too complicated for a significant other anyway, he muses as he erases the message.

James shoves the phone back in his desk drawer and pulls up the department file index on his monitor. He knows he won’t find much, but he types in ‘vagos’ anyway. 

He blinks.

There are 1800 search results.

How is this possible? Just last week, the same search had brought back literally 1 result.


End file.
